


take me to the limit, hold me down there

by volchitsae



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Professors, Established Relationship, M/M, Office Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:48:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26252167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/volchitsae/pseuds/volchitsae
Summary: “we’re both professors in the same department and it enhances your reputation with the students as a mysterious enigma and my reputation as a terror if we pretend to hate each other, plus when we back each other up in departmental meetings everybody’s so surprised they give in right away” AU-The Rate My Professor quotes start becoming a regular occurrence. Atsumu wonders if any of his students now are making reviews to egg on the antagonism because some appear that are hilarious.Miya Atsumu’s page, written on the board by Sakusa:“Peel away the layers of his superadded bombast and you get very little, maybe a whimpering thought, a distant muffled howl, a cry for help.”Sakusa Kiyoomi’s page, written by Atsumu:“BORING! But I learned there are 152 tiles on the ceiling.”-sakuatsu nsfw week 2020, day 1: hair pulling + "i love seeing you worked up."
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 51
Kudos: 739
Collections: SakuAtsu NSFW Week





	take me to the limit, hold me down there

The monthly departmental meetings are genuinely incredibly boring when the consistent message from the head honchos of the university is “no funding”.

This is why Atsumu is currently trying to convince Sakusa to play a game of footsie with him underneath the large conference table, but to no avail. Sakusa is as impassive as stone, actually focused on the PowerPoint presentation where the head of the Fine Arts faculty is flying through her slides to explain why the Department of Architecture needs to be able to fund the guest speakers and internships for their students.

Atsumu is paying attention as well, of course. It’s not like he or Sakusa hold any derision to any other departments; everyone is trying to provide the best education they can for their students. Their faculty head has already presented their bid for more funds to be able to renovate lab spaces and upgrade licenses for software in order for students to actually do any meaningful work.

They’re quite the pair, Sakusa and himself; no one knows they’re a _pair_ pair, together for five years, married for two without any last names changed officially at the university. The sheer number of Miyas between Atsumu, Osamu, Kiyoomi, and Rintarou have the respective spouses keeping their last names in their professional fields. Both Atsumu and Sakusa have doctorates in their respective disciplines and met in grad school; Sakusa teaches the first-year introductory courses dubbed Calculus 1 and 2 and Atsumu teaches Introductory Statistics 1 and 2.

It’s definitely the short end of the stick, to teach the courses taken by majority first year students. Hundreds of students per class make their email inboxes a mess and office hours are even worse. Teaching is what they enjoy; so, at the end of the day, it’s not all bad.

What Atsumu means by “quite the pair” is that they’re seated together not of their own volition but because the department heads think they genuinely loathe each other. The department heads’ impressions come from the graduate _and_ undergraduate students who also think they loathe each other.

It’s not a long story. They keep the façade of their rivalry because their reputations among the students and staff means they have several advantages to their disposal: mainly a fun work environment when their topics can be quite boring, and surprising the department when they happen to agree on anything at all.

Both are known as the respective terrors of their subjects. Sakusa’s rigid marking rubric established for the midterm and final exams include marks docked for even the most minuscule notation errors at a 0.25 marks taken off for each one and no points at all if the question was attempted incorrectly. For students encountering calculus for the first time, it’s quite the blow. Sakusa’s teaching style is cold, humorless, and fast paced as he scribbles example problems and works through solutions across the whiteboard. The students often scramble to keep up, too used to typing instead of writing math notes. He lectures for a little over half of the hour and 15-minute lecture slot and then uses the rest of the time for students to attempt the questions he’s assigned for homework.

“Okay, so the questions assigned are 1, 2, and 3 for this topic. You may notice they are parts A to K. The numbering is on purpose to lull you into a false sense of security. As usual, the rest of this lecture will be allotted for these questions, so get started. We’ll take time to correct them quickly next class. Yes, what’s your question? If it’s ‘do we have to stay’, the answer is you should if you want to pass this class. I can’t make you do anything, of course, and failing you would be the easiest thing I’d do all year.”

Atsumu is not the enigma that Sakusa is at work. He’s the opposite; a wild card, interjecting humor and complaints while lecturing and uses his tablet to mark up the statistics slides used by all the introductory stats professors. The general consensus by the students is he’s an entertaining lecturer and a terrifying exam maker. All of his questions are long answer type and involve several parts with full mathematical calculations along with precisely worded interpretations. ANOVAs and chi-squared tests do involve multiple parts and exact terminology is necessary to avoid misinterpretation of the results, so he has no regrets.

“Yes, you can always use Excel to do it for ya,” he declares, waving his tablet pen around. “What statistics demands from you is _meaning_. What do the numbers Excel gives you actually _mean_? What does the data actually tell you? _That’s_ what statistics can do. Everythin’s meaningless otherwise.”

All of this comes together because they share the same lecture hall and the undergraduates get to see their rivalry on full display when class change time arrives. Sakusa’s class is first at an 11:30am to 12:45pm block, and Atsumu’s is a 1:00 to 2:15pm block. They snap at each other whenever Atsumu strolls in two minutes before Sakusa’s class ends and hops up onto the desk at the side of the room to watch and heckle Sakusa going through the answers to the previous day’s questions on the board.

“You composin’ the next Symphony Number 5 in A minor over there, Sakusa?” Atsumu gestures at the integral symbols that look nowhere near a treble clef.

“I too think that integrals are like a symphony. There’s a full ensemble of notations in every question, like a full orchestra,” Sakusa deadpans. He writes down the answer with a flourish and there are some disappointed groans from students who’ve realized their mistakes.

“Sounds like you need to transfer to the Arts department, talkin’ like that.”

Sakusa shakes his head. “That’s the end of class brought to you by Dr. Miya Atsumu, right on schedule.” The class erupts into shuffling of books and bags.

“Alright, y’all ready to do some _real_ math?” Atsumu waves the whiteboard eraser menacingly, scaring some students who aren’t in his statistics class to write faster because they think he’s going to erase the solution. The students who are taking both of their classes in the same semester snicker because they’re waiting for him to connect his tablet to the computer.

“I heard you,” Atsumu says, pointing at one student he recognizes because they never move from their seat during class change. “Traitor. I bet you daydream about derivatives and integrals instead of t-tests.”

Sakusa packs up his notes. “Who wants a table of numbers as their dream?”

“Better than the _unit circle_ ,” Atsumu replies, nose in the air. “That thing looks like a torture device. You make your kids memorize that?”

“They need it for the final. We don’t provide it, not like you, who have to remind all your students which side of the curve they need to subtract from one.”

“The curve is symmetric, of course it’s confusing.”

“So is a circle. My students can draw a circle.”

“I’m not taking geometry lessons from someone who uses imaginary values.”

“I’m not taking criticism from someone who can only use real values.”

“What do imaginary values even do for you?”

“Square root of a negative number.”

“What does that even _mean?_ Statistical formulas don't need weird letters like that.”

“Tell that to your students when they fail to write down what the alpha value is.”

“You hear him?” Atsumu points to Sakusa leaving the lecture hall. “Don’t forget the _alpha value_ , literally the most important fuckin’ thing in this course. Don’t tell him I swear, either, I know y’all do it all the time."

The bickering is taken up a notch when Atsumu writes in one of Sakusa’s Rate My Professor reviews at the top of the whiteboard like an inspirational quote. Atsumu uses the red whiteboard marker to draw some questionable chili peppers that look more like dicks onto the board as well, which represent “hotness” of the professor on the actual Rate My Professor website. The quote reads:

_“He teaches well, but there’s just something off about him. He smiles, but there’s no warmth there. Just a terrible emptiness like you’d find in the rusting hull of a ship forgotten at the bottom of a dead sea. Something happened to him to make him this way. I do not know what it was. No one does.”_

“I didn’t decide to teach calculus to get psychoanalyzed,” Sakusa says to him when Atsumu appears at the class change time the next day. “Left a quote for you, Miya.”

 _“Miya Atsumu is a great teacher that often stokes his own ego and I think he is a butt pirate”,_ Atsumu reads with a chuckle. Sakusa’s erased some chili peppers so Atsumu only has two of five.

“This is war, Sakusa,” Atsumu declares. “If I win, I’m permanently keepin’ five of five chili peppers on the board which is accurate to my level of attractiveness.”

Sakusa cocks his head. “If.” The students give a low _oooh_ at the challenge.

“You’re a math teacher, don’t go quotin’ the movie Troy.”

“That’s a quote from an actual Spartan letter to challenge their enemies, who said something like ‘if we win, we will burn your city to the ground.’”

“Whatever,” Atsumu says, waving his hand. “The only useful thing the Greeks gave us were Trojan brand condoms.”

“You’re going to be struck down by your gods. The arithmetic mean was likely first used by the Greeks.”

“Okay, so two things.”

“I’m surprised you can count that high,” Sakusa says, and promptly leaves.

Atsumu groans to the chorus of his students laughing. “S’not fair. He can always make a dramatic exit.”

The Rate My Professor quotes start becoming a regular occurrence. Atsumu wonders if any of his students now are making reviews to egg on the antagonism because some appear that are hilarious.

Miya Atsumu’s page, written on the board by Sakusa: _“Peel away the layers of his superadded bombast and you get very little, maybe a whimpering thought, a distant muffled howl, a cry for help.”_

Sakusa Kiyoomi’s page, written by Atsumu: _“BORING! But I learned there are 152 tiles on the ceiling.”_

Sakusa Kiyoomi’s page, written by Sakusa while Atsumu is sitting there before calculus class ends: _“Teaches well, invites questions and then insults you for 20 minutes. He is cool. Maybe the smartest man I know_.”

Sakusa Kiyoomi’s page, written by Atsumu: _“I don’t wear my seat belt driving to school because I want to die before I can make it to this class.”_

Miya Atsumu’s page, written by Sakusa: _“He is the awesomest man alive. And his wife makes a great breakfast.”_

Atsumu genuinely bursts out laughing at that one. He turns to face his students, who are giggling into their hands.

“Joke’s on you, whoever wrote this review,” waggling his finger at all of them. “I’m gay _and_ married.” Someone in the left corner whoops with a shout of “Miya Atsumu says gay rights!”

“That’s _doctor_ Miya Atsumu to you,” Atsumu sniffs, and then displays all of their midterm marks in a histogram and makes them calculate different percentiles so they understand where their marks fall in the scope of the class. Just to remind them who’s in charge.

Atsumu blinks rapidly to stay awake in the meeting. The head of Fine Arts ends her presentation and several people from the university’s athletics department rise from their seats to have their turn, and Atsumu notices Sakusa’s focus sharpen more. It’s been a topic at dinnertime when they’re at home – how bombastic can the athletics department get with extra luxuries such as famous half-time concert performers for their football games, the funding for international trips for the soccer team to get wasted in Barcelona, etcetera, etcetera. The athletics department is probably one of the most well-funded at the university.

Atsumu inwardly sighs at the PowerPoint transition effects while he jots down figures that they display on screen. They do this _every_ time, it’s not the early 2000s, no one uses Windows Movie Maker effects anymore. The excitement the athletics department members are trying to foster at a 7am to 10am meeting with these effects is actually doing the opposite.

Fireworks blast across the projector screen next to numbers in the thousands as they advocate for a firework show at the homecoming and end of season games for various sports – American football, soccer, tennis, track and field. The fine print on the slide (Atsumu would dock marks for that, what’s the point of a slide with bullet points if you can’t fucking read all of the text) indicates they want fireworks at every game to introduce the university’s team members if they can get the money for it.

Sakusa finally fidgets and nudges Atsumu’s foot with his own, probably by accident. Atsumu hides a grin with his yawn; Sakusa’s definitely itching to say something this time and has been for the past several departmental meetings.

One of the athletic team departments claps and grins at the round table. “Any questions, comments, or concerns?”

“Quite a few,” Sakusa starts, and Atsumu gathers his notes up for the show. He watches Sakusa stand and stroll up to the projector board, swiping the remote control for the slides off the table as he goes.

“Consistently, your department has been getting a seven to ten percent increase in funds – not every year, but every _term_ ,” he says, clicking back to a chart in the PowerPoint. “The science and math departments have had a funding freeze for the past two years and the labs are practically falling apart.”

“We’ve already heard your demands –“

“Not with estimates,” Atsumu interrupts. Ignoring the astonished looks from the rest of the group, he jogs up to the front and pulls a spare chair in front of the laptop that’s displaying each slideshow. He clicks to edit the PowerPoint alongside Sakusa speaking.

“According to your data from last year, you had approximately forty-five thousand dollars left to carry over into the new year. That’s already a quarter of the budget the science departments had to use for lab reagents and paying our TAs a fair wage over two years.” Atsumu’s fingers fly across the keyboard to type out how exactly Sakusa has gotten to the numbers he has as he glances down at their combined set of notes.

Sakusa pushes his wire frame glasses up and Atsumu has to control his fond expression. _Nerd_. “If you’re asking for _another_ fifteen percent increase for _fireworks_ , of all things, you need to be able to justify it outside of ‘student morale’. And it’s not like you don’t already have fireworks; you do have them at the end of every single home game.”

“Pyrotechnics aside,” Atsumu chimes in, “if you take a six percent increase instead of fifteen of your several million-dollar budget, the remainder alone is enough to fund both the science department’s renovations _and_ the Fine Art’s guest lecturers.”

Sakusa nods. “If you don’t take an increase _at all for one year_ , which you can absolutely afford, it’d be enough to fund the demands from everyone made here today. So let’s do that.”

The room is currently in a stunned silence.

“That’s it from us,” Atsumu says, closing the laptop screen. “Any questions, comments, or concerns?”

“I’ve never seen you two agree on anything,” one person says.

Sakusa places the remote back onto the table. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“We’ll have to review the budget,” the Dean replies. “But that’ll work.”

“Won’t take you long. PowerPoint’s right there,” Atsumu points. “D’you need a breakdown of it again for the class?”

“I’ll take it to my meeting with the finance board. Thank you everyone,” the Dean says, and the meeting is adjourned.

* * *

At the end of the day, Atsumu is answering a few student emails when there’s a knock on his door.

“Sorry, office hours are over – Omi-kun,” he breaks off, tone warm as he spins his chair to face Sakusa. Sakusa is leaning against the doorframe with his bookbag dangling from his fingertips. “Hey, Omi-Omi. How was your day?”

Sakusa drops his bag next to Atsumu’s on his way into the office and leans back to close the door. “Good. You were there for most of it with that departmental meeting.” The way he tucks one arm behind his back to lock the door does not go unnoticed by Atsumu.

“Go team,” Atsumu says, clicking send on the last email and sitting back. “It looks like we’ll get the fundin’ we need for our department. We can finally host those R workshops.”

“I’ll teach R over my dead body,” Sakusa replies. He shrugs off his suit jacket and smooths one hand down his tie. Atsumu can just barely see the hickey he left on Sakusa’s neck two nights ago just underneath the dress shirt collar; he’d thought seeing Sakusa in professional wear would get old when it’s all they wear to work, but he still cuts a fine figure.

Sakusa climbs into Atsumu’s lap.

“Whoa,” Atsumu says, but is completely unsurprised. “Impressed by how I typed so fast on the PowerPoint without errors, huh?”

“Oh yes,” Sakusa says flatly. His hands land on Atsumu’s belt buckle. “Knowing there’s a zero percent increase so they can’t fund Olympic scale fireworks truly gets me hot and bothered.”

“That reminds me of one Rate My Professor review,” Atsumu mumbles, brain starting to cloud from the way Sakusa’s making quick work of his shirt buttons and nosing at his jaw. He rolls his hips to meet Sakusa’s weight and hums when Sakusa meets him halfway.

“What did it say?”

“' _This teacher was a firecracker in a pond of slithery tadpoles,_ ’” Atsumu quotes. “Firecrackers are close enough to fireworks.” He gets a snort in his ear from Sakusa as a reply.

“I can’t actually tell what that means as a review.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Atsumu says, reaching up and tugging Sakusa down by the tie. “This is much more important anyway.” Their mouths meet open and hot; Sakusa’s hands are trapped against Atsumu’s chest underneath the half-unbuttoned shirt. Atsumu admires the way Sakusa’s slacks ride up and wrinkle at the crease between thigh and crotch, erection straining against his own.

Sakusa finally gets Atsumu’s belt unbuckled and he rubs one palm against the both of their cocks, panting when both of their hips cant upwards into his touch.

“What d’you have planned for us, Omi-kun?” Office sex is wonderfully, deliciously new.

“I didn’t plan.” Atsumu gasps, mock-dramatic. Sakusa chuckles and gets up.

“No, wait, come back, I didn’t mean it – _fuck,_ ” Atsumu hisses, when Sakusa drops to his knees on the carpeted office floor and tugs at Atsumu’s slacks and underwear to expose his cock.

“I didn’t plan,” Sakusa repeats. “So there’s no lube or condoms. But I want to use my mouth on you.” His expression is open and needy, and Atsumu stares greedily as Sakusa licks his palm and sucks on his fingertips to coat them with saliva before they circle his cock.

“By all means, Omi-kun,” Atsumu says. His knees spread open to accommodate Sakusa’s broad shoulders, one hand smoothing gently over Sakusa’s cheek. Sakusa props his elbows up on Atsumu’s thighs before opening his mouth over the head.

The back of Atsumu’s head thumps gently against the backrest of his office chair, already undone at the wet, slick heat that is Sakusa’s mouth. He thinks Sakusa was lying just a little about not having a plan, because the way Sakusa is taking his length deeper and deeper with each pass he makes seems like he’s got deepthroating plans in mind.

Not like Atsumu’s complaining. “So good,” he groans, at a particularly hard suck on the head that Sakusa does on his way up. It makes Atsumu’s toes curl.

Sakusa’s face warms underneath Atsumu’s hand, and Atsumu opens his eyes to a flushed Omi-Omi, eyes half-lidded and bright. His curls are a little out of place from Atsumu’s hold on him and Atsumu wants to mess him up more.

“Yes, baby,” he whispers, and thrusts up ever so slightly to make sure Sakusa can take it. The way Sakusa’s eyelids flutter in pleasure has Atsumu feeling dizzy.

Sakusa pulls off, saliva caught at the edge of his lip.

“You can be rough with me,” he says. “I’m good.” And he looks good; face pink, the blush blooms down his neck, and the sheen of sweat at the hollow of his throat glints gold in the fading sunlight.

“Y'sure are,” Atsumu replies, and pushes both hands into Sakusa’s hair and holds on tight. Sakusa’s low groan is cut short when Atsumu maneuvers him back over his cock and pushes down.

They work themselves into a rhythm. Atsumu’s hands have a tight grip at the base of Sakusa’s curls; he knows pulling from the ends hurts way more and tries to keep an eye on his hands as he pushes and pulls Sakusa up and down his cock.

Sakusa is making muffled moans every time Atsumu bottoms out against the back of his throat. Atsumu can tell his eyes are watering. His hands are holding Atsumu’s thighs and he uses them as leverage to lift and drop himself, head bobbing with slick noises Atsumu is too close to orgasm to care about someone walking by and hearing.

“I love seein’ you worked up,” Atsumu pants, moving one hand to brush a tear from the corner of Sakusa’s eye. “You’re perfect, I’m so close, fuck. Can I come? Please let me come, Omi-kun.”

Sakusa’s answer is swallowing around as much of Atsumu’s cock as he can take and holding himself there, throat convulsing as he swallows when Atsumu hits orgasm and curves over him with how hard it hits.

“ _Jesus_ , Omi-kun,” Atsumu sighs, sitting back. “I nearly blacked out.”

“You’re welcome,” Sakusa replies. His voice is hoarse. Atsumu claps one hand over Sakusa’s mouth.

“Don’t speak, I’ve got lozenges somewhere.” Atsumu hands his water bottle to Sakusa to wash his mouth out.

“It’s fine,” Sakusa says, pulling Atsumu’s hand away. “We’ll finish this at home.”

“Aw.” Atsumu pouts. “Any way I can convince you to ride me in the car?”

“I told you, I didn’t plan.” Sakusa stands, knees cracking. Atsumu hops up to get properly dressed again. “There’s still no condoms or lube here or in the car, I’m not getting your dick up in me dry.”

“Fair enough. Spit can only go so far.”

They make their way to their car and Atsumu has to hold his laptop bag over his crotch to hide his erection.

“Detour to the grocery store for condoms, lube, and eggs,” he says, once they’re on their way home.

Sakusa glances over at him from the driver’s seat. “What do you plan to use the eggs for?”

“We’re just out of eggs,” Atsumu snickers. “No weird kinks. I wanna make breakfast burritos for dinner.”

“We can get that taco seasoning you like for them?”

“Holy shit, take _me_ in this car.”

“Maybe after we buy enough lube and condoms,” Sakusa says. Atsumu kisses the ring Sakusa has on his left hand, feeling very, very lucky.

**Author's Note:**

> (shoots off party poppers) happy day 1 of nsfw sakuatsu week!! prompts and event organized by the wonderful folks [@nsfwsakuatsu](https://twitter.com/nsfwsakuatsu) on twitter! please check out the hashtag #NSFWSakuAtsuWeek on twitter and the [collection](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/NSFWSakuAtsuWeek) here on ao3 for more amazing, amazing fanart and fic.
> 
> title from [no drug like me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mVocX_uNTIU) by carly rae jepsen.
> 
> Rate My Professor quotes from two lists: [here](https://cheezburger.com/2199813/19-brutally-honest-rate-my-professors-reviews-that-are-worse-than-attending-a-lecture-hungover) and [here](https://www.bachelorsdegreeonline.com/blog/2011/50-funniest-remarks-ever-written-on-ratemyprofessors-com/)!
> 
> thank you for reading!


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